


Silence

by perfectflo



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F, Florabella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectflo/pseuds/perfectflo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a night full of problems between the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

•Isabella's POV•

As always, upon Florence's request, the windows were kept open. In her melodramatic tone she'd explain that she would rather sleep within the ramblings of the city than the eerie silence, but as the one who knew her best that simply translated to. "It will get too hot." 

She was always a junkie for the darkest of dramas. Nothing in her life could be characterized as simple, she had to have things with pizazz, and color. Depending on the day it could be dark colors or neon, who knew, right?  
I suppose she was the, "Oh that isn't a car it is a Mercedes-Benz, or that isn't red it is blood orange." Do you see what I am saying? I guess what I mean is that Florence is the craziest girl I know. Says things backwards, intertwines words to make new phrases. She is a walking Sim, talking in that wack ass language no one understands. But I love her, and I always will. No matter what, she is mine. Forever mine. Not to sound stupid, but yes I am her machine. Not just musically, but I am the little tot like bugger that keeps her going. And yeah, I am fucking proud of it. I love Florence to death, and never will that stop.

Back to the story, the windows were open, and the white curtains were being sucked out of the window frame into the night, and the sound of the cloth rustling kept me wide awake. I stared into the darkness, listening to the wind, listening to the pipes creak in the wall of the hotel, watching the blinking light on the ceiling from the alarm clock, and feeling the warmth of Florence beside me. We hadn't been talking very much at that point in time. Something inside of her was hurt, and it was being plugged off by alcohol and bloody nonsense, and I just couldn't get to her. She was lost in this realm of heartbreak, and whenever Florence was in that stage she was, mentally, a goner. It was a miracle just getting her to close her eyes to sleep; otherwise, she'd be in the state I was in. She'd blankly stare away, thinking about what to do. But with a mind like hers her brain was a jumbled up mess. A thought was like a monster, or a fairy. Either one, but now it was a monster, eating her away. And it pained me to see her like that.

She turned away from me, and she let out a soft sleepily sigh. I recognized that, she was awake. I watched her, silently, as she slowly sat up, her back craning down so her head was practically between her legs.  
"Flo?" I questioned, knowing that something was itching her, something had to come out.  
"Hm?" she groaned, as she tried to look at me but her sore neck told her differently, so her head turned away again.  
"You...you alright?" I carefully asked, but there was nothing. She left the bed with a creak, and the lanky, redhead made her way to the stool that had the rest of her day old outfit laid upon it. She slipped her jeans on, and all I could do was watch. Florence trudged to the window and looked at the dark skyline, and the light of the stars ignited on her face. The bags under her eyes, and the coldhearted scowl on her face was evident.  
"Isa?" she softly said, her voice having dipped to a subtle croak.  
"Yes, love?" But she left another conversation hanging, there was no answer. We couldn't get much farther than that. It only aggravated me, I wanted the other Florence back, she was just a stone at that time. Her soul was empty, everything about her was a great, long abyss of darkness. 

One sheer light shown itself into our hotel room, and when she turned I looked into her glistened eyes. The pain in them tore me apart. I felt the tears creeping, usually I never cried. I was tough, but my exhaustion overpowered that. My chin trembled, and I took in a gust of breath. And she found my emotional state impeccable so she headed for the door. I jumped to a seated position. "Oh god, Florence don't leave. Please," I desperately begged. Knowing her, that could have been the last I would have seen her.  
She stopped in her tracks.  
"Come back, come here, get back in bed."  
Nothing. Not a nod, not a head shake, just a bowl of nothing.  
"Why can't you just talk to me, Flo?" I cried out, by then the tears were freely spilling from the corners of my eyes. Usually when Florence saw me like this she would have broken down the toughness and come to me to lull me back to a small simper. But she just stood there, staring at me. Almost with a hatred in her eyes, but I kept trying to tell myself that she just couldn't help it.  
"I don't want to," she muttered sternly, her emerald eyes piercing me. Her sharp tone slightly startled me, and I jumped a bit.  
"Why not?" I whimpered, my fist coming up to wipe my eyes.  
"I just don't want to," she screeched within gritted teeth as her hand flew up to hit something, but there was only air around her. She was standing so close to me that the blow she took frightened me to death, and I flinched. And she recognized it in a heartbeat.  
"No, Isa...I wasn't. You know I...I...I would never. I couldn't...Isa....oh," she stuttered as she stumbled for her apologetic words.  
"Just talk to me, Florence!" I loudly wailed in pure desperation. "I can help you. Like I always help you!"  
"I don't...I don't!"  
"You don't what?" I asked.  
"I don't you to know how filthy I am, Isabella!"  
"Filthy? What in the bloody hell do you mean filthy?" I spat with a confused look marking my face.  
"My mind is a jumbled up fuckery, and I need to fix it myself," she demanded fiercely. I scoffed to myself, crossing my arms.  
"I don't understand why you can't just open up. I'm not here to fucking spit out judgements, I obviously love you to death, Florence. I'd never try to hurt you. You know that. Why don't you trust me anymore," I rambled on farther, and I failed to see how fed up she was becoming. She hated not getting her way. She picked up the crystal, vase that sat on the table, and chucked ferociously at the wall to shut me up. I could almost hear the wrath of the ghouls within her souls speak out. Seeming like the deepest, darkest poltergeist on earth. 

I flinched, thinking that she'd throw something at me. Never in our whole friendship had I seen her lash out so horrifyingly like that before. I was petrified, and I couldn't move. I was afraid to move.  
"Stifle it and fuck off," she spat, and then she hurried out the door, slamming it once she was gone. And I had no idea if she would come back.


End file.
